*Undelivered*
Kingston
January
22nd 1802
My
dear Archie,
Perhaps it is
cowardly of me to commit these words to paper, rather than giving a proper
answer to your question earlier, but you must know frankness in speech has never
been easy for me. Besides I fear you
would have exhausted yourself in trying to argue. The course I intend is the right one, but I am afraid it will
still be very hard for you to accept.
Archie, I know you will not have
forgotten Justinian, nor how Clayton died to protect me from my youthful
folly. But I think even you have not
fully understood how I remember, how heavily his blood has lain upon my
soul. I should never have challenged
Simpson. I convinced myself it was a right act, but in truth I cared only for
myself and my own damaged pride. His
killing me would only have served to increase his arrogance towards the rest of
you. I could have – should have – borne
it longer, if I had done so Clayton would have been spared death and you
suffering that even now I do not like to think on.
I have tried very hard to make
atonement. Again and again I have tried
to save other lives or at least to bring some help to those in need. Always I seem to fail, whatever I do is
never enough. I am resolved that it
shall not be so this time. By giving
the tribunal what they want, I will ensure the rest of you go free. That’s what I want. I don’t think there’s a chance of survival
for me anyway, just a choice over whether to take the rest of you down as well and
that’s no choice at all. But it doesn’t
matter.
What I’m trying to tell you, Archie, is
it’s all right. I’m not afraid
– no that’s a lie and I vowed there would be no lies in this letter. I am afraid to hang (there, you are the only
man I could admit that to), and I do shrink from the shame of it, wish that I
could leave a better name behind. But I
never felt I deserved much of the praise I have been given. I have been lucky, that’s all. And I have often been horribly wrong, you
know that, and never paid the proper price.
So really I’m not losing anything that was truly earned. And I am afraid, but far more than that I am
relieved. Relieved that this
time the penalty will fall on me.
My biggest fear throughout all this has
not been death, nor even disgrace. It
has been dread of bringing others to the gallows. Most of all it has been dread of causing your death, you who
remained my friend through all the pain that I have brought you. That would be worse even than the burden of
Clayton’s blood.
Truly I don’t regret this, or rather I
regret many things, but not the payment I shall make. My life has been mortgaged these nine years, it’s high time I
paid off the debt. If there could have
been another way I never found it, and there has been time enough. In many ways I’m glad of this chance. I’m tired, Archie. Tired of others’ blood on my hands. I don’t expect you to really understand that, but please believe
that when this is over I shall be free.
Free as I’ve not been since we first knew each other. I can’t be sorry for that, and you mustn’t
be either.
So don’t grieve overmuch, Archie. And don’t let this shadow your life. For you must live, and I know you can,
whatever Clive may think. You have the
strength. You belong to life, you have
a gift for living I have never had. You
are more alive than anyone I’ve known.
So Live. You deserve it, you
deserve so much more than I can. For
life owes you much, where I owe life.
Live, Archie. And don’t regret.
It’s all right.
I’ve been staring at this page a long
time, unable to know how to end. I
don’t think this has been a very clear letter, but I couldn’t write it over
again. Perhaps I’ll just wish you good
sailing, my friend, the best friend anyone could have. And – Thank You. For everything.
yours ever,
Horatio
**End**